


That Other Road

by Leni



Series: That Other Road [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth Greene Lives, Denial, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7003792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They took a different road. Beth never hurt her ankle. They never found the undertaker's home.</p><p>They just kept walking. Together.</p><p>---</p><p>1. <b>Wishes.</b> The first snowfall of the year.<br/>2. <b>Smile</b>. During one of their stops, Beth runs into an old acquaintance.<br/>3. <b>The Right Path</b>. Five times Beth was annoyed at Daryl. And one she wasn't.<br/>4. <b><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7003792/chapters/16153876">Save Me</a></b>. Five times Beth and Daryl saved each other's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: **It was the first snowfall of the year**.

Beth had believed that it couldn't get worse than last winter, when she'd been away from home for the first time in her life and it never seemed like there was enough food or warmth in the world.

But now her body didn't even bother to remind her of hunger. All she could process was the cold, the slide of ice that seemed to settle over her skin, no matter that she was covered from hair to toes with only the tip of her nose allowed to peek out of her coccoon. She could feel it sinking through her, squeezing her bones until they cracked and then the ice poured itself into the very marrow.

It didn't bear thinking that she would survive this night just to face similar or worse the next day.

Winter was only starting, after all.

"Beth?"

A hand on her shoulder, rubbing down her back roughly enough to be felt through the several layers of shirts and sweaters.

"Hey, sit up," Daryl insisted, as if she could dismiss his presence when her legs touched his from the knees down. "Dinner is ready."

Beth almost whimpered at the knowledge that it wouldn't be hot. Not even a little warm. Couldn't make a fire inside a tent. Had to thank God that they'd snagged this tent at all, even if it took a complete disrespect of personal space in order to fit the two of them inside. "Okay," she said at last, knowing that they both would ignore the clatter of her teeth through the single word.

"Okay," he said more softly, drawing away. 

But he would be watching her, ready to haul her onto her ass if she hesitated too long. The Dixon school of thought demanded movement to stave off the cold. So did physics and common sense, come to think of it.

Beth mentally scowled at the three of them. She still pushed herself into a sitting position, shivering as she untangled the scarf from around her hair and pulled it down into a thick collar that reached up to her earlobes. "Hey," she said, picking a strip of dry meat and thankful for the bread that accompanied it. It was burned at the edges, and dry after three days in their bags, but it seemed a delicious luxury now.

Definitely worth the skinned rabbits bartered away.

"It'll only be tonight," Daryl mumbled after a while.

Beth paused in her slow chewing and nodded. They were risking enough by staying in open ground stuck in their little tent. There was no way to scout for danger, and to stay outside for a watch would be courting sickness in a world where antibiotics were dearer than anything they owned (except, perhaps, Daryl's bow). They had set their alarm system, but the strings had to be tied at mid-calf height, just in case the snow would fall heavily enough to cover them on the ground. The dead would still trip and alert them, and at least the cold would have slowed them enough that there'd be time to rush out and deal with them. But, at long last, it wasn't the walkers that worried her the most. She and Daryl couldn't be the only ones who hadn't arrived to better shelter before the snow started falling. No one would miss the row of bits of metal and wood laid out that high between tree trunks, and any living wandering outside would be desperate.

Despair made for dangerous creatures.

Beth would rather not have a life on her conscience. Or on Daryl's.

She thought wistfully of her life two years ago, when her major moral dilemma had been whether to lie to her parents to sneak off to a party. When the first snowfall had been an occasion to drag Maggie and Shawn outside and dare them to taste the cold snowflakes. What a child she'd been!

The smile on her own lips went unnoticed until she felt Daryl's gaze on her. He wasn't frowning, exactly, but Beth could tell that he was wondering what could have lightened her mood. Had he grown more expressive, or had she become so used to reading him? "This was one of my favorite days of the year, you know," she tried to explain, digging for another piece of meat but not biting into it yet. Daryl didn't often invite conversation about the past, and Beth thought she understood. Their lives before the turn would never return, too much death and grief had piled on those long gone days. But she still could remember the better parts, couldn't she? "It'd be the first snowfall, when it still wouldn't have melted and become an annoying brown slush. I could pretend we'd have a white Christmas that year."

He snorted. 

"I know it was a silly wish, even then. Now..." Her free hand tugged the scarf tighter around her and she looked down at her lap. "Now it just seems like a really bad joke."

The foot tapping at her knee didn't register until it poked her hard. Beth lifted her eyes again and found Daryl staring at her. "Wasn't silly," he said firmly, in the same tone of voice as when he told her to stay behind him when they met with a group. "Not then." He scratched the line of beard across his cheek, a tell that meant he was deliberating whether to expand on a subject. This time, he did. "Bet you had everyone smiling around you. Little thing like you, and nobody would plain come out and say you couldn't be more wrong."

Beth's mouth pulled into a faint smile. She could picture the scene of those evenings. Her mama looking fondly at her, gloved hands in her dad's as they came out to the porch and refused to take a step further. Her siblings, both older and much taller than her, playing along and laughing as they did.

(Was Maggie alive? _Could_ she be? But if Beth had survived, surely her sister had as well!)

"Good times," she said at last, feeling her insides warm a little at the happy memory. As long as she had no proof that Maggie was gone, she must believe otherwise. Then she glanced at Daryl, grateful for the dismissal of her darker thoughts and hoping she would return the favor with her next question. "What about you? Did you like the snow, before?"

Daryl shook his head, but the fact that he answered meant he was in a better mood as well. "Hell on the tracking, if we were camping. Not that much better in a town, really. Merle always bitched about being stuck inside. Could be okay when you were driving." He shrugged, careful not to dislodge the coat - too small to wear properly - from around his shoulders. "Sort of pretty, I guess, if it weren't a real snowstorm. And then you rented a room and got a hot shower before bed."

They heaved twin wistful sighs at that idea.

"It's just tonight," Daryl said again. "We'll find someplace tomorrow. Roof. Walls. A spot for a fire."

"And no walkers inside?"

He snorted. Of course he couldn't promise that much. "Just be ready to clear your half of it."

Nothing said friendship in this world like someone trusting you at their back when you were the weaker fighter. Especially coming from Daryl Dixon. "Right," Beth said with a nod, feeling the urge to grin for the first time since the first snowflake had floated past her face. "Guess all I can do until then is wish for an early spring." She hesitated. "Or is that too silly?"

Daryl didn't laugh. "Long as you're alive to see it."

Beth thought of the cold. The hunger. The roads they avoided because roads meant people and, too often, people meant danger. "I've survived this far, haven't I?" she said, tipping her chin up and trying not to shiver.

He nudged her knee again, but there was something affectionate in the gesture this time. She _was_ reading him better, after all.

"Why, Daryl Dixon. I think you actually believe me."

He grunted in response, and Beth grinned. To her, that had sounded like an affirmative.

 

The End  
28/05/16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Full disclosure. I've watched two episodes of TWD, and that was back in its 2nd season. But I was intrigued about this couple, so I started looking for more on it. Started with vids, moved on to the fic, and then I realized that the 'ship was too good not to jump in. So here I am, jumping in blind. 
> 
> Wish me luck?


	2. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During one of their stops, Beth runs into an old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: **He hadn’t seen her since the day they left High School.**
> 
> Chapter 'tags': Original character. Outsider POV.

Alex hadn't really paid attention to the hunters that had run into their group that morning. They met their like every few weeks; people who were too broken to fit in any kind of society anymore. Paranoid and half-hysterical, seeing walkers in the shadows and bites in every scratch, but at the same time too stubborn to lie down and let this world kill them.

Just for that, Alex almost respected them.

He certainly wasn't above sharing a few vegetables, in exchange for pointers about where to set some snares or how to strike a larger animal. Picking at a stranger's brain was the post-apocalyptic version of Google, and one had to be quick about securing the information before the source drifted away back into the world outside and (most probably) died before making his way back.

The figure he saw on the outside of their camp was as expected. Big. Burly. Long-haired and wearing filthy clothes. The bow in his grip was nicer than any weapon Alex had seen in recent memory, but it still didn't divert from the image Alex had formed of men like him.

What shocked him was the blond figure standing next to him.

Women living in the wild were rarer than working vehicles.

She stood about half a foot shorter than her companion, looking delicate in comparison. They were conversing together; or rather, she would have her say, wait until he either nodded his head or shrugged, and then she'd go off again.

Alex couldn't hear what they were saying, but their privacy wasn't the reason he stopped a dozen steps away. He was too busy wondering whether he really remembered that woman from somewhere, or he'd finally lost his mind.

It was the smile that plucked the name from his memory.

Nobody smiled like that anymore. Euphoria at laying down the dead without a bite or a scratch, yes, sure. Relief when there were enough provisions for everyone in their group, of course. Even tears of joy, when a loved one returned unharmed from a scavenging outing.

But a simple, soft smile when life and death weren't on the balance? No. That just didn't happen these days.

It reminded him of more innocent times. Of hanging out with the other boys and flirting with the cuter girls, and watching as they blushed and glanced back with bright smiles before ducking shyly away to whisper and giggle among themselves.

He'd never considered that he might see one of those girls again.

"Beth? Beth Greene?"

He knew he was right when her shoulders tensed and her head snapped up, immediately searching for the source of the voice. At her side, the man she'd walked in with lifted his weapon, giving a quick glance around before his eyes fixed on him.

A touch at her shoulder, a nod in his direction, and Beth was turning to him as well.

Blue eyes studied him for a few seconds. brow furrowed with wariness and confusion, until they widened in recognition. "Alex Dunson!"

"In the flesh," he confirmed, but didn't step toward her. 

The last years had changed the world. The two of them weren't acquaintances meeting up in the middle of the street, exchanging pleasantries and perhaps a cup of coffee on the way. They were survivors in a world that had no mercy, and that too often demanded that people abandoned that quality as well.

The girl he'd known had been a quiet pretty thing, sister to Shawn Greene and girlfriend to one of his pals (Jimmy, he remembered. That boy's name had been Jimmy.) She had flushed easily when someone teased her, and always said her pleases and thank yous with enough sincerity that one didn't mind doing her a favor.

This woman - and it was a woman he was seeing now, for all she was almost two years his junior - looked as if she could handle whatever the world threw at her.

But into what kind of woman would that have turned her?

"Hey," he said, purposely moving so the bulge of his weapon was noticeable, but also keeping his hands away from it. No need to rile anyone's temper (and the man beside her looked temperamental enough). It wasn't as if they were from two groups circling the same loot. She and her man had come with extra meat to trade, and they'd caused no trouble while the leaders deliberated what they could afford to give in exchange. 

Alex could afford to be civil. 

Beth also made a show of pulling her hand away from the knife hanging at her belt. Her other hand moved to touch her companion's wrist, and whatever silent communication could pass between two people who weren't even facing each other was enough to make the man lower his bow.

Then she was smiling again, and for a moment Alex saw the fifteen-year-old blonde he'd known before the world ended. "Fancy meeting you here, Little Greene," he said, wincing when the old nickname spilled from his lips with no consideration on whether there were other Greenes still on the side of the breathing.

Beth barely flinched, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed her grasp gripping at the man's fingers before she let go. "It's Dixon now," she corrected gently.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen a pretty girl claimed by the sort of man that wouldn't have pictured in her life, four years before. But unlike them, Beth didn't seem bitter or resigned.

Alex risked a quiet chuckle in lieu of the hug to the bride and handshake to the groom that would have been the norm. "Congratulations?"

Her expression softened a measure. "I got lucky," she said firmly, meeting his eye as if daring him to contradict her.

Alex shifted awkwardly.

He hadn't meant to voice that question mark, but it was impossible to remember Jimmy's thin arms slung around his girl's shoulders and not compare the memory to the menacing presence standing at her back now. The man wasn't the biggest he'd seen, and he couldn't be too mean if he was hovering so protectively at Beth's shoulder, but if Alex had ever paused to imagine a future for the slight blond girl who often dressed her hair in twin braids and sang so beautifully at church, he never would have imagined this Dixon person at her side.

Warning bells went wild at the idea of tangling with him one-on-one. Alex was fit and at least a decade younger, yes, and still his instinct screamed that he would lose. Dixon clearly wasn't a man who'd survived by playing fair or waiting for the other party to strike first. Even with the bow pointing to the ground, Alex would have hesitated to make any sudden movements toward his former schoolmate.

Smart people lived longer.

Only an idiot would come closer to a woman without her express permission when she was being watched by this fellow.

"You look good," he offered. It was true. People these days didn't do well outside a community. Most loners were thin to the point of near-emaciation, but while no one would call Beth plump, she was clearly being taken care of. There was enough rose in her cheeks and brightness in her eyes that it hadn't been impossible to recognize her. "I'm glad you're... well, alive."

"Like I said. I got lucky." She smiled. "Glad to see you alive too," she said, then added with a twist of her lips. "I thought everyone from our town was dead already."

Well, that answered his doubts about her family. Jimmy as well, for that matter. He really hadn't expected to see any of them again, so he didn't allow himself to grieve at their loss. "Me too," he offered. "You're really doing all right? Out there, I mean. I can't promise a permanent place here with us, but if you asked-"

Beth shook her head. "We're good. We'll collect our fee - whatever it turns out to be - and be on our way. But thanks." She glanced at Dixon, who shrugged one shoulder and said something too low for his voice to carry. Whatever his answer had been, it made her face lit up. "Yeah. We'll be gone soon. Got friends to catch up with, hopefully."

Alex nodded. "In that case, I'll go ask them to hurry up." He almost turned around, but then remembered the little parcel he'd brought along. "Right. These were for... well, they're for you now. Just a few tomatoes and onions, and baby peas - a late wedding gift?"

Beth laughed. "You heard that, Daryl?" Still grinning, she didn't wait for an answer before she was rushing forward to inspect the vegetables. "Oh, that looks great!"

Behind her, Dixon scowled, but he said nothing and neither did he follow her. Alex tried to ignore the fact that the bow came back upon the man's broad shoulder, from where it'd be only a moment's work to aim and shoot. "Yeah, well. You can take the boy from his farm, but..." He shrugged. He had fought when fighting was needed, and even though he was terrified that he would need to use his gun again, he would. But that wasn't how he wanted to spend the rest of his life, regardless of how long it would be. "It's not too bad, making things grow," he told her softly, almost a confession. Taking over his grandpa's land had been an unwanted burden to his younger self, and he'd been loud and bitter about it. He could slap that boy silly now. "I think I can do this, Beth."

She didn't hesitate. "Of course you can," she said brightly.

To his surprise, that was followed by a tight hug. His eyes went in panic to check on her husband, but the man was only shaking his head. It could be amusement, but Alex wasn't convinced enough to let his old friend linger over a couple seconds.

"Yeah, well," he said as he leaned away. "Come back in a couple months. There'll be more and better." The look she gave him said she didn't expect to see him again. Must be some good friends, to make her wander that far and fast in their wake. "I'll pray for you, Little... I mean, Mrs. Dixon."

That made Beth break into delighted laughter. "I don't get enough of that name," she confided giddily.

Her good mood was contagious; Alex had to smile back. "He a good man?" he asked, because in the old world Mr. Greene or Shawn would have asked it, and crazy world that this was, now he was the closest thing to a male relative she had. Knowing her from childhood had to count.

Obviously she didn't agree. "That's none of your business, Alexander David Dunson," she chided with a roll of her eyes, and then lifted a shoulder, "but since you actually seem worried... Yes, he is." Her cheeks pinked. "Daryl's the best. I _am_ lucky."

Alex didn't remember her as a good liar.

Besides, he would like to believe that even in the rotten mess they lived in, people could still find a spot of happiness. As long as there was a smiling girl in the world, it couldn't be all bad.

He smiled, then leaned in to kiss her forehead. A kiss he'd have given to bless his own sister, had she lived through their journey here. "Go be happy."

Beth smiled back. "I plan to."

 

The End  
29/05/16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no way to include this in the story, as it's all from Alex's pov. But I'm sorry to announce that Beth and Daryl _aren't_ married. Or in a romantic relationship (at this stage, though they're reeeeeally close). It's just that they've judged it safer to pose as a couple.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Right Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Beth was annoyed at Daryl. And one she wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for WithASmile87 at [Comment Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/723006.html?thread=95411774#t95411774). Prompt: **The Walking Dead, Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene, 5 times Beth was annoyed by Daryl and the one time she wasn't.**

**1.**

There were few things she could do in their camp that didn't require Daryl's supervision. He kept an eye on her work when it was her turn to clean the crossbow bolts (and after she'd managed to bend one, back in their first week together, Beth couldn't blame him). He would even check after she'd set their alarm system, even though the whole operation consisted of walking in a rough circle with a bit of string and empty cans. Of course, it was a matter of life or death. It needed to rattle as soon as something - living or dead - tripped into it, rather than get snagged on a nearby branch or some small rock.

Daryl had shifted several branches and rocks in their time together, though not as many these last days.

Beth understood. He had the experience; she didn't.

She was learning; that was the important part. She felt confident that soon Daryl would relax a little, trust her judgment more - or at least stop looking as if the whole of the world was on his shoulders, and Beth was an extra weight.

Sure, there were several tasks she still needed to practice.

But she could start a fire.

Nice as it was, to wake up the warmth of a bright fire, it also made her feel useless. Useless people didn't last long. "I could have done that," she told him, aware that she sounded annoyed and unable to stop herself.

If Daryl didn't believe that she could be of help, then why bother?

He didn't even glance over at her. He just grunted in agreement, so casually that Beth understood it didn't matter to him who took care of the fire as long as it got done.

As if they were equals.

And even though she was aware that they _weren't_ , not when she needed him more than he needed her, Beth still liked the thought of it.

 

***

 

**2.**

"You should tell me when you're hurt," Beth snapped, trying not to cringe at the sight of the wound running up his arm. 

A bolt through the leader's thigh had finally dissuaded that group from targeting the two of them, but apparently Daryl's scramble against a knife hadn't been completely victorious.

"Don't _do_ this to me, Daryl." She ignored his raised eyebrow. Yes, sure. He was the one bleeding. But _she_ was the one who'd have to look out for the both of them if he miscalculated his own strength. "I can't help if I don't know there's a problem."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You help," he said at last.

Beth tried not to smile, as she was annoyed at him, but she knew the curl at the corner of her lips betrayed her. Instead of answering, she set about cleaning the edges of the long slash, ignoring his protest at the use of their precious 4-ounce bottle of alcohol. He didn't protest for long, anyway, just as aware that they couldn't risk infection. 

It wasn't the worst injury she had seen - not by far. It didn't even seem to bother Daryl at all, and if not for the bloody spot on his sleeve she'd spied, Beth wouldn't have noticed it. 

He'd live. Of course he would.

She repeated this fact to herself until her breathing calmed down.

That was when she noticed Daryl's gaze on her. His eyes shifted away when he saw her looking, but at least he didn't move his arm.

"You worry too much," he grumbled.

_It's the end of the world. I'm lucky to have someone to worry about._

Instead Beth said, "Must be because you're that important." For a long moment, nothing happened. Beth kept working, concentrating so as to save as much alcohol as possible, but when his good hand landed on her shoulder, she wasn't startled. Not a friendly pat, not even close to an embrace. She still thought she knew what it meant. "You're welcome," she whispered.

And knew she'd guessed correctly when he didn't move away.

 

***

 

**3.**

It was rare to meet other wanderers who weren't trying to rob or kill them. It was different at the settlements, where people had banded together and cobbled back up some shape of society, but here in the middle of the forest, it was best to show weapons first and figure out a stranger's intentions later.

But the small group they'd just left behind had been good people. Survivors from some community up north that had been overrun by thugs a few days before. It was too obvious that none of them had been in charge, before their flight. They had little knowledge of how to subdue a walker, except from what they'd observed by hit or miss (and they were missing several members, they said) and their supplies were all dried goods rather than the meat and wild fruit they needed if they didn't want to starve soon.

They had even been willing to trade fairly, something Beth hadn't experienced often without Daryl's pointed crossbow as an incentive. In fact, once they had understood that most sources of food were already looted or crawling with walkers, they'd hinted that there was place in their group for more.

Daryl's brusque answer had slapped those hints down before they could become an actual invitation.

Beth waited until they were out of hearing from the encampment. "You could have been nicer," she chided, trying not to let her annoyance show.

Of course they couldn't have stayed with that group when she and Daryl were still chasing after their own, but it still would have been nice to spend some hours with them. Have a conversation where a third of the exchanges weren't made of grunts and punctuated by scowls. Maybe share a meal that hadn't been hopping around that morning.

Instead she'd barely had time to show them how to set a snare, when Daryl had announced it was time to leave and practically hauled her off and away.

He'd been reluctant even to give her the time to collect the paperback that had been promised in exchange for the lesson.

"What was the rush, anyway?"

He glared at her as he'd done in the beginning. As if he couldn't believe she could be that dumb and still be alive. "We still need to find a safe place, girl."

"Seems to me, we just _left_ a place."

"Wasn't safe."

"What do you... Daryl!" She took his elbow, forcing him to a stop. "What do you mean, not safe?"

He gave a big huff, always awkward at explaining something that was more instinct than fact. "Damn it, Beth. They know nothing 'bout keeping alive, okay? The two of us alone could have walked away with their food and their weapons, that's how unprepared they are." He met her gaze, daring her to disagree with his assessment. When Beth kept quiet, he loosened himself and jerked his head to signal that they should keep on. "Better looking for something else, than stuck there."

Beth thought of asking Daryl to turn around and help that people. They'd fall further behind from Maggie and the others, but they'd understand, wouldn't they?

She considered the option, but finally shook her head.

If they had been going in the same direction, then she would have risked it. Unprepared or not, there was strength in numbers. But the group headed south, opposite to the trail (she hoped) her sister and their friends had left behind.

Daryl's posture relaxed slightly, as if he'd been aware where her mind had been. If she'd chosen differently, would he have gone along with her or fought her every step of the way?

Beth didn't even consider that he might have just left her with the others and gone on his way.

"You didn't have to be so mean, anyway."

Daryl shrugged and kept walking ahead, not even bothering to turn to address her. "Didn't shoot them, did I?"

"Big deal," she scoffed. "You scared the crap out of them instead."

While she'd been teaching the basics of hunting in the area, Daryl had listed the threats closest to their location.

"Must be idiots if they weren't scared already."

Beth pressed her lips together, wordlessly conceding the point. She had felt awful as she saw their faces pale further with every mark Daryl had made in their map, as he explained about rogue military, thieves, and the last spots where they'd seen herds - though he'd pointed out that the dead would have moved on already, so everybody needed to be on watch at all times.

They hadn't been too comforted by the mentions of safe settlements along the way. Beth understood; there were too few of them in comparison to the dangers. "You think they'll make it?"

Daryl did glance at her at that. He looked skeptical. But he shrugged for her benefit. "Perhaps."

Beth pretended to believe him.

Because if that band of innocents made it, then their friends had to be okay as well.

 

***

 

**4.**

"Hey!" Beth yelped when the squirrel that had been on her sight fell off the tree, his plump body traversed through. But not by one of her arrows. "Daryl!"

"Slowpokes don't get dinner," he drawled, smirking at her as he moved forward to bag his kill.

Beth narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Oh no, you don't." She had the advantage of being a few feet closer. Rushing over, she grabbed the tail and snapped the squirrel up, jumping away from his grasp when Daryl made a grab for it. "Finder's keepers!"

"Woman, have I told you what happened to the last man who claimed something of mine?"

She didn't allow the memory to wipe away her good mood. They were here; that man wasn't. It was a beautiful morning. They had their first solid clue on their friends' whereabouts in weeks, and enough food to last them for the next week. 

Nothing could make her keep from laughing at their bit of silliness. For they _were_ being silly, no matter that Daryl's face would look dead-serious to a stranger.

She danced away from him, waving the squirrel between them. "Said 'thank you, sir, for lightening my burden'?" His scowl made her giggle. "Asked pretty please to have it back?"

He rolled his eyes. "No."

Beth backed another step, managing not to trip when her foot found a large root. She saw him smirk, and that was when she realized that she'd managed to trap herself between the trunk of the tree and Daryl. She was pretty sure it hadn't been a conscious decision.

She snuck the poor squirrel behind her back. "I found it. I tracked it. It's mine!"

"Bolt through it says differently," he pointed out as he ambled closer.

"And yet, I'm the one holding it."

Another step, and he loomed over her. A twist of his arm, and he could have grabbed her wrist and finished their little stand-off. But he just stood there. "Mine," he said slowly. 

But his eyes weren't on their dinner.

Beth felt herself blush. "I might trade it out," she offered, tilting her head and licking her lips so he'd know her meaning.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "No."

Beth faked a dejected sigh. "Oh well. Can't say I didn't try." And as his arm shot out to cut off her escape, she surprised him by moving straight toward him, grabbing his chin with her clean hand and pulling him down for a kiss.

He didn't resist.

It was a brush of lips, soft and not as awkward as it'd been in the beginning.

"Think you're distracting me, girl?"

"Nope," she acknowledged. Then she put up her hands in surrender. Her _empty_ hands. His blink of surprise was all the advantage she needed, and she ducked out, grabbed her prize from where she'd dropped it, and, laughing, raced back toward their camp. "Who's the slowpoke now?"

"Damn it, Beth," he shouted back. "Has no one told you not to play with your food?"

She turned over her shoulder to send him a winning grin. "Ah hah! So it _is_ mine!"

Daryl stared at her. Then he started chuckling.

A good day, indeed.

 

***

 

**5.**

Beth couldn't help the flinch as another bullet broke through the wooden wall of the cabin, just a few feet away from where they crouched together. "I'm not leaving without you," she hissed, hand tight around the hilt of her knife.

But what good was a knife, when the men outside had firearms?

"Don't be stupid," Daryl growled back, grabbing her arm and shoving her toward the back window. "You're waiting until they surround this shithole completely and there's no way out? Huh? Just get the hell out, Beth!"

"Come with me."

He shook his head. "Yeah. Right. Because they'll kindly let us get away." He bared his teeth. "They've baited their trap well," he sneered, glancing around the cozy cabin that had been too good to be true. "They won't walk away with nothing to show for it. Hell, _I_ wouldn't. The moment they know for sure we've left, they'll be chasing us."

"We've run before," she reminded him.

"Yeah. Well. These ain't drifters, girl. They didn't make a noise coming up, so they sure know their way around. The only way to outrun them is to keep them here." He joined action to words and, peeking out through the window facing the front, quickly set a shot that sent the other men screaming - one in pain, the others in anger - and earned another volley of bullets. 

Beth flinched again.

"Beth - out!" When she still hesitated, he sighed. "Hey. We'll meet at our last camp after sundown, okay?" He flung his pack at her - sans weapons, but with his half of their provisions, scarce as they had been or they'd never have made this stop. "You want to help, you carry that. I'll catch up before it gets too heavy for you."

He was lying to her. He was lying and she'd never been madder at him.

Or more in love.

That was when Beth understood what needed to be done. She grabbed the strap of his backpack and hauled it over one shoulder. "Don't die on me, Daryl Dixon," she warned as she crawled to her escape route.

Beth refused to acknowledge the look of relief on his face at her exit.

He'd yell at her if he knew what she was planning, so she didn't tell him. Scurry away and hide their packs. Take out her bow and arrows, and pray that she'd learned enough on the last months to take down whoever she ran into first without alerting his buddies.

Grab his weapon. Repeat.

It was madness, of course. But she'd seen desperate plans play out before (she'd also seen the deathcount afterwards, but she had to hope it would all be on the other side this time).

It might not work.

She might be throwing away Daryl's sacrifice for nothing.

But she had to try.

 

***

 

**6.**

The presence of so many people in one room was heady enough without the noise accompanying it. Beth took deep breaths, telling herself it wasn't worse than a crowd at a restaurant. She must not be doing a good job of keeping a serene expression on her face, because Daryl's arm tightened around her waist and he hefted her more firmly against him.

In their former world, Beth would have been annoyed at the ease with which he manhandled her. She definitely would have been furious at the way he had grabbed her by the waist as soon as he found a seat, and lifted her onto his lap without so much as a word of warning.

But instead Beth had settled comfortably against his chest, long used to the position before it had actually encompassed the intimacy it signaled.

It felt different for her and for him, to be this close. But to everyone else, it had the same message as when they'd resorted to the pretense so many months ago. It worked as an effective statement: _this girl's spoken for_. Anyone who wished to question that was welcome to a private conversation with a crossbow if they were lucky, or with Daryl's fists if they weren't.

"Wanna go?" he muttered, hooking his chin on her shoulder so he could speak into her ear.

From the moment they'd been ushered into the converted barn, Daryl had worn a permanent scowl on his face. Since it dissuaded most people from staring at them too openly, Beth didn't even try to tease him out of it. The idea to head back to the corner they'd been appointed and their bedding was tempting, but she hadn't spent almost an hour here for nothing.

She shook her head. "Not yet," she answered.

As a rule, they avoided larger settlements. Every stop they made was a gamble, but the presence of weapons and more than a dozen people who knew how to handle them was to stack the odds against them. However, a greater number of people meant a better chance that there would be something useful - or uncommon, by today's standard - to trade.

Today they had come in search of a specific item: a pair of sturdy shoes in her size. Her own were more string and cardboard than leather, and the trek in the mud two nights ago had not helped matters.

Too bad people now hoarded such things as they'd have done gold and jewels, a lifetime ago.

"We can work it out in the morning," Daryl suggested.

Beth shook her head. "If he comes tonight and we don't meet him, someone will tell him about us. I don't want him to have too much time to up his price." Them she sighed. "He might not wanna part with anything."

The man in question had lost his teenage daughter a few weeks before. The people that had talked to them were unsure whether he'd disposed of the girl's belongings yet.

Beth wouldn't blame him if he chose to keep the memories intact for a while longer. If she had anything to remember her family by, she would carry it forever.

Daryl snorted at the idea. "Would be an idiot to hang onto fucking shoes, while a live girl's freezing her toes off."

His voice was loud enough that the nearest people turned, either nodding or frowning at the bald statement.

"Daryl!"

He gave an unapologetic shrug. "Isn't like the dead's feeling grateful these days."

"I know," she said, and then more softly, "But we don't tell that to the grieving."

"That's a stupid rule," he groused. "Everyone's grieving, Beth."

_You too?_

But of course. Brothers and parents had been left behind. Perhaps a sister as well. 

"I know," she repeated, leaning back until she was practically curled on top of him. Her hand searched for his, guiding it from her hip to around her waist. She smiled at the sound of contentment he made, and then at how quickly he evened out his expression. Nobody else would have caught the change. Tucking her head in the nook of his neck before he could see her grin, Beth kissed the underside of his jaw. "But let's focus on footwear tonight. We can track down a bit of happiness tomorrow."

His arm tightened around her. "Might be on the right path, at that," he said, tilting his head so she'd have better access.

Beth smiled, following the wordless invitation with another kiss. "Glad we agree on that, at least."

 

The End  
03/06/16


	4. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Beth and Daryl saved each other's lives,
> 
>  **Chapter Tags:** Maggie/Glenn, the world is broken, but it's not all lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Marlex at [Comment Fic](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/723006.html?thread=95416382#t95416382). Prompt: **Beth Greene/Daryl Dixon, five times they saved each others' lives.**

**1.**

Daryl grabbed the dead thing by its shoulders and hauled it away from Beth, taking a moment to bash in its skull and kick it away before he rushed to kneel next to her, She was curled-up on the grass, eyes wide with terror before she recognized that the weight on top of her was gone.

"Damn it, Beth," he said thickly, palming down her long-sleeved jacket to search for any tear - and a scratch beyond it - and then grabbed her chin and pulled it to one side and then the other to check for a bite. "Damn. Damn. Damn."

But his heart slowed in relief when he couldn't find any sign of fresh blood on her.

Her hand came to his wrist, pulling it away. "I'm okay," she croaked, though her fingers held him so tightly, he felt the sting of her nails. "I'm so stupid. So stupid, Daryl."

"Shhh." 

Shouldn't have taken his eyes off her, anyway. Should have been glued right at her side, brought her along into the house to check for threats before settling inside for a night or two, instead of leaving her outside on the lawn where any fucking walker could catch wind of her. "Up," he said roughly, aware that he'd be useless at comforting a panicked teenager. He made to tug her to her feet, but Beth shook her head, loosening herself from him and looking wildly around the lawn until her eyes found the dead body where it had dropped a few feet away.

"My knife," she whispered, crawling to the thing and sliding her weapon from where it must have snagged against the dead flesh across its throat.

Daryl made an approving grunt at the angle and depth. On a live man, her strike would have been a death sentence. "Not bad."

Beth shuddered. "I was aiming at his head."

He considered that, then took the measure of the body laid down. "Too tall for your usual reach," he decided. He offered his hand again, and this time Beth took it with her left one, the right clutching her knife. "We'll work on that. You're small, but that's got its own advantages."

She nodded. "Thanks."

"Someone should've taught you long before," he groused, now more resigned than angry at being stuck with the weaker of their group. Wasn't another option than to toughen her up. Keep her breathing until he could give her back to Maggie (if Maggie was even alive, but in moments like this, when it sunk in how much his shitty decisions mattered now, Daryl couldn't allow himself to think otherwise).

"I meant, thanks for saving my life."

Daryl frowned. "What else was I supposed to do?"

Beth's lips quirked a little. "Exactly."

 

***

 

**2.**

Beth knew that she didn't make a very effective human shield, and Daryl was making it harder by trying to reverse their positions. But she held her ground, aware that short of lifting her off her feet and over his back, he wouldn't move her.

"Don't you see," she hissed at him. "They ain't gonna hurt _me_."

Daryl growled back. "Damn it, girl." His eyes went back to the group before them, keeping his crossbow aimed at the one that seemed to be the leader, a woman with short, dark hair and a scar across her cheek, who had come the closest. 

Yes, _a woman_. 

They were all female. All armed. All glaring at Daryl with such hatred that Beth slipped closer against him. "Don't shoot," she whispered, "please don't."

It was meant for both sides, but only Daryl gave a tense nod. 

Beth lifted her hands, praying that her instincts were right.

Months ago, she had been too sheltered to recognize the look in these women's eyes. The banked anger. The fear swimming at its edges. The helplessness that whipped a soul into taking up arms and defending what was left.

The world was broken, and the dead weren't the worst plague on those who'd survived the break. People were used and abused in this new world with a lot more impunity than in the last, and women topped the list of probable victims.

Meanwhile men - big men, rough men, men who kept young girls with them - were too often the perpetrators.

"We're together," she said out loud, shoving down the urge to giggle because, how many times had Daryl announced the same when they arrived in a new settlement? She copied his habit of meeting the gaze of everyone listening, as if daring any to challenge the claim.

There was no outward reaction from the women, except that their gazes moved from Daryl to her in speculation.

Beth stood straighter. "We've been together for months," she specified.

The leader narrowed her eyes. "Your choice?"

Daryl snorted, and he was right; it hadn't really been a choice. But Beth nodded anyway. "Yeah," she said.

It was the truth. She would choose him now.

The woman scrutinized her, then passed her eyes over Daryl and, at last, with a gesture had her friends lower their weapons. Beth exchanged a look over her shoulder with Daryl, and even though he scowled at her wordless plea, his bow also pointed at the ground.

One by one, the other women slipped back into the forest.

"You don't need him," the dark-haired woman told her, the invitation subtle but there.

Beth licked her lips. Because she _did_ , but that clearly was not the right answer. This was not the moment to explain everything they'd been through together, and how their best shot at finding their friends was to stick together. They had history, she and Daryl, and none of it could be easily told to a stranger.

"But I trust him," she said at last.

The woman huffed. "Whatever. Just don't come back through here. Not with _him_."

"Lady, ain't like I'm hot to come back," Daryl grit out.

Beth closed her eyes in exasperation. "We're going," she said, grabbing his arm and leading him down the way they'd come back. She could feel eyes at their backs, and Daryl had a look on his face that said he was wishing for a gun of his own. "Hey," she said softly, catching his hand in hers and squeezing. "It'll be okay."

He glanced down at her in disbelief. "Bunch of ladies just had us at gunpoint for nothing but walking in their turf - and that's okay?" He scowled at the memory. "Whole world's gone to shit, Beth."

"Sure. But _we_ are okay." She tried a smile. "Aren't we?"

Daryl gave up. "I guess," he allowed.

And her smile widened.

 

***

 

**3.**

He woke up to find Beth sitting next to him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Here," she said, passing him a bottle of water and the packet of saltines she'd been saving for a special occasion.

If that was a sign of what was coming, he wanted no part of it.

Girl could get goddamn weird when she got into her head that he'd gone and done something sweet.

He almost squirmed at the thought of that adjective.

The Dixon men were _not_ sweet.

Merle would be rolling in his grave, laughing himself stupid in the afterlife, at the mere notion.

But there was Beth, all blue eyes and soft smile, and Daryl heaved a sigh and accepted their version of breakfast in bed. At least she was saying nothing yet, but he knew the girl enough to understand she was looking for the right words.

He was damned.

Daryl shifted, cursing the sleeping bag wrapped around his legs. It wouldn't let him leap up and go about his business in the usual manner. Just pretend this was a normal day and he hadn't behaved like a complete fool the night before. 

Then he caught Beth's gaze, and knew he'd have to forcibly remove her from his way to avoid her this morning. 

He heaved a sigh. "I'm not apologizing, Greene."

Beth's lips pulled into a knowing smile. "Had a feeling you might not. It's okay. It was more my fault anyway, so I already talked to David. He said he'd have done the same as you - and possibly broken the other guy's nose and blackened his two eyes instead of just the one."

Daryl grunted. Hoped she'd leave it there, with the announcement that there were no hard feelings and no danger of being ambushed by the college-boy-turned-hunter and his buddies.

But of course Beth wasn't finished.

Of course she tucked herself at his side, her hip against his, her head on his shoulder. "You took a bullet for me," she said softly, bringing up her hand to tap against his chest.

It didn't hurt. It _couldn't_.

Daryl still felt a knot in his throat. "Wasn't nothing, girl."

He'd come in to find the stupid boy pointing a gun at Beth. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd reacted on instinct rather than wondering why Beth hadn't looked afraid, why the girl who could handle herself against walkers wasn't fighting at all.

Instead he had rushed to place himself in front of her. Hadn't even realized he hadn't been hit before he had David on the floor and was trying his best to flatten his head against the floor.

Boy was lucky the only thing broken was his damn nose.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Beth said now. "Should've thought how it'd look like."

"'S fine," he grumbled. Thought about getting to his feet, ending this awkward moment. But she was too comfortable a weight against him, her closeness a fact of life in a world where they often pretended a relationship they didn't have. "It was stupid, that's all."

Beth smiled again. "You took a bullet for me, Daryl Dixon. Scowl all you want, I'm not forgetting that any time soon."

He sighed.

If what followed was the press of her lips at his shoulder, right below the torn hem of his shirt, Daryl pretended he didn't notice.

Things were complicated enough already.

 

***

 

**4.**

To say he was shocked to wake up still in the land of the living - such as it was, these days - was an understatement. Daryl shot up in the bed, his bewilderment growing when he realized he'd really been lying on a bed, with an actual mattress and white sheets instead of the forest ground or the occasional dirty floor where he and Beth made their bed most nights.

_Beth!_

"I'm here," her voice came from his side and he immediately rounded to her, ignoring the pain at the movement.

She looked too pale. Exhausted.

So thin that Daryl knew without being told that it had been days since the last time he'd been lucid enough to recognize her. "Beth," he repeated, consciously out loud this time.

Her smile was small, but it was there. "You're really here," she said, half to herself, and before Daryl could think of an answer, Beth was launching herself against him, sobbing so hard he was at a complete loss what to say next.

He wanted to know where they were. How they'd gotten here. What the hell she'd promised to get him a clean bed and whatever meds had driven the fever away.

Instead he grabbed her shoulders and pulled at her until she understood and climbed up onto the mattress, pressing her forehead against the side of his chin, her mouth a steady pressure against the pulse at his throat. Her tears were clammy against her cheek when he tried to wipe them away, and her hair felt greasy to the touch.

Wherever they were, they didn't have extra people to care for the sick.

Daryl couldn't say he regretted that. If he must be completely helpless, he'd rather it be at Beth's hands.

He just wished it hadn't demanded so much of her.

"I'm here now," he promised, and after he felt her nod, added, "but where are we?"

She snorted wetly. "Couple miles south of the cabin. Do you - do you remember the cabin?"

Daryl remembered thinking it wasn't a bad place to die. He'd just wished there was someone other than Beth to put a knife through his brain when it happened. It wasn't right, to bring down the corpse of someone you loved. It stayed with you, that kind of twisted shit.

But he hadn't died.

"How?"

"I - I left you." Tears clogged her voice again, and he heard her take a few deep breaths before she continued. "There was nothing I could do. Not shut in there. And you... Daryl, you were half-gone. Wouldn't even swallow any water no more." She shuddered. "I _couldn't_."

"So you left." He decided he didn't blame her. As long as Beth was far gone, he didn't have a lot of trouble with the thought of his rotten body wandering around. "That's okay, love."

"What? No. _Daryl_." She lifted herself on her arms, staring down at him. Her blue eyes were hurt, and Daryl felt guilty at his assumption. She only shook her head, moved so she could lay a hand against his cheek. "I went to get help," she said simply.

He didn't want to ask. He hated to live in a world where the question could have no good answers. "And what did 'help' want in exchange?"

There was a reason they avoided places like this. It had to be a big operation, to have the kind of free space that allowed for a stranger to convalesce. There would be guards, to make sure that the people they invited in didn't make trouble or make away with the food or call in their friends to sack the place.

Places like this was full of paranoid types who'd rather pull the trigger on any future corpse than bring it in and pump it full of antibiotics on the chance it would wake up still breathing.

They wouldn't have brought him in out of mercy.

There had to be something in it, for whoever was in charge.

He'd heard too many offers of help, in the months since he and Beth had wandered post-apocalyptical Georgia on their own, to know that a favorite currency was the loan of a pretty girl, willing or not.

"Beth?" he insisted, swearing he'd kill any bastard who'd as much as put a finger on her.

"Your bow, if you didn't... If you never woke up. A season helping them out if you did - cleaning out the walkers, helping with runs, building a bigger fence." She gave a shrug. "Basically sold the two of us until summer."

His gut twisted. "And that was all?"

Of course Beth knew what he meant. He sent a quick prayer of thanks when she shook her head. "Not that. They got kids here. Too many babies." Her mouth twisted. "Finally caught on that a hunter would be more useful than a whore. So I did that."

He understood what Beth wasn't saying. That the option had been brought up. That she'd have taken it, if it had been the only way.

He wanted to shake her, shout that she should have wandered on and left him to his fate. He wanted to hold her until he could find the words to explain why it wouldn't have been worth it.

He wanted to promise that it would never happen again, and loathed the thought of lying so baldly. 

This world didn't hold to promises of safety, not at all.

This was the world that had made him a killer, robbed him of a conscience until he'd wrestled it back. This life had twisted and twisted his brother until the only decent thing had been to stab Merle's dead body until it didn't twitch anymore. And yet Daryl had never hated the end of the world more than now, when a girl of sunshine and song believed it was okay to sacrifice herself for him.

As it was, she'd delayed their search for their friends by entire months.

He caught the back of her head and brought her against his chest, kissing her hair. "Okay," Daryl said, accepting her choices.

Wasn't anything else he could do, to honor Beth.

He'd get better. He'd pay off their debt.

And then he'd search the world for her sister, so as to pay his own debt to this girl.

 

***

 

**5.**

Glenn sat at the edge of their bed, watching as she changed into a cleaner set of clothes she saved for sleeping. It wasn't Victoria's Secret, but it was cuter than the patched shirts and ratty pants that were the option. Not that she was in the mood for lingerie even if she'd owned any.

She'd forced herself to bite her tongue through the whole evening. Beth was happy. Beth was _alive_. And if Beth was sitting on the lap of fuckin' Daryl Dixon while telling the story of how they'd survived those few first weeks after the prison fell, then Maggie had to remind herself that Beth was happy and alive _and here_ , and that, according to her little sister, none of that would have been possible without the rotten son of a bitch who hadn't even the decency to pull over any of the half dozen free chairs in the room so Beth could sit there.

" _The bastard,_ " she hissed, tossing her sweaty shirt on the floor and imagining she was whipping Daryl Dixon with it.

To think she'd been happy to see him that morning!

She should have demanded he wasn't allowed through their doors. Men like that had no business touching her little sister, or kissing her when they left the meeting room and thought nobody could see them.

That it had been Beth pulling him down, and Beth who'd ignored the free seats in the first place, didn't really count.

"If he hurt her, I'm slicing off his nuts and serving them to the pigs."

"Ah, honey," Glenn interrupted. "Could you not think of other men's package while in our bedroom? Especially if there's any, um,-" he cringed a little "- _slicing_ involved."

Maggie glared.

"Besides, wouldn't your sis mind if you did that?"

She hurled her bra at his face. It only made him grin wider. "Come on, Mags. They've been on their own for, what, a year and a half? Probably a bit more. Of course they got close. It's what people _do_."

It was on the tip of her tongue to snap that Daryl was not people, but she stopped herself in time. The man was an opportunist who'd taken advantage of her little sister's good nature, but he'd still protected Beth until they made it back home.

And how was it fair, that Daryl found and cared for Beth, while Maggie had mourned her baby sister right alongside her father after that awful day?

She sat down heavily next to Glenn, hiding her face against his shoulder. "I'm so pissed I could scream."

Glenn patted her thigh, then drew the covers back and guided her to lie down on her side and settled next to her. He kissed her forehead, the corner of her eyes. "I know," he said. "But, are you pissed because he's been with Beth all this time, or because you weren't?"

She didn't say anything, though she knew that her husband already knew the answer.

"If it helps," Glenn said softly. Carefully. "I really think Beth loves him."

Maggie scowled, but couldn't deny it. Her sister had returned to her with decades of experience the girl she'd been at the prison hadn't dreamed of, but she still had a contented look on her face. And when Beth looked at Daryl.... "I know," she acknowledged in a reluctant whisper, and then snarled. "That's the only reason I haven't put a bullet through the bastard's head yet."

 

The End  
06/06/16


End file.
